


Me, I'm Not

by allofuswithwings



Series: How Well I Hide [1]
Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: Angst, Body Hair, Changing Tenses, Cheating, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, POV First Person, Partners in Crime, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexuality Crisis, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28680207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofuswithwings/pseuds/allofuswithwings
Summary: Chris isn't too concerned when he finds himself an accidental voyeur to Matt and Dom's escapades. But things get a little more complicated when Tom discovers his secret.
Relationships: Chris Wolstenholme/Undisclosed, Matt Bellamy/Dom Howard
Series: How Well I Hide [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102226
Comments: 5
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Livejournal/Dreamwidth. Originally published between May and June 2009.
> 
> The title is taken from the Nine Inch Nails song of the same name.

When you first step into the realm of the forbidden, you find yourself on high alert; acutely aware of everything going on around you, and perpetually paranoid that you will get caught with your hand in the biscuit tin.  
  
But, thing is, after a while, all that danger, all your fear, your vigilance, begins to lessen, as you realise that no-one has noticed you. Each time you indulge in the taboo, you become less and less cautious because you think nobody is paying attention, and it seems increasingly unlikely that you’ll get exposed.  
  
So you relax. Become careless. Treat it like it isn’t really a big deal.  
  
Until something happens that pulls the wool from your eyes, and you realise just what you’ve become.  
  
Like I did.  
  
It all started some time ago, years now I think, when I found out that Matt and Dom, my two best friends, were fucking each other. Yeah, that’s right. These two _supposedly_ straight blokes I’d known since I was ten, and had been in a band with since not long after, were taking it in the arse from one another. Among other things.  
  
The dilemma I had, other than what the fuck do you make of your best friends now you’ve found out they like dick just as much as snatch, was how to broach the subject with them. See, they didn’t catch me when I caught them.  
  
I’d stumbled round the back area of an after-party one night, to take a piss in a concealed bush, when I heard sounds nearby. Incredibly drunk, and half-believing I was seeing things, I discovered Dom, in the shadows, pressing someone up against the side of our tour bus. It was clear he was in the middle of a pretty spectacular shag, from the sounds he was making, but I abandoned all plans to leave him to it when the raven-haired conquest turned their head; it was Matt.  
  
I can’t really remember what I did the rest of that night, save me standing there like a perverted idiot, staring in the shadows until they’d finished. Then I made a mad dash back to the party and hoped to God they hadn’t seen me.  
  
And from then on, I became obsessed. I watched them like a hawk, like I was their bloody minder, there to make sure they weren’t doing anything bad. I must have been at least somewhat clever in my fixation, because they never called me on it, not once. For a big guy, I think I was pretty stealthy in my stalking of them when they were alone, and silent enough in my spying from adjacent rooms.  
  
And at first, I told myself it was to keep them in check. Yes, to chaperone them, maybe an attempt to discourage them from repeating their previous encounter. For a while, I believed that. Ran it over and over in my head, as I watched them sneak hungry kisses in dark, empty corridors backstage before gigs, and give each other hand jobs late at night on the tour bus couch when everyone else had gone to bed. I was simply keeping an eye on them.  
  
What bollocks.  
  
At some point it occurred to me I was doing no such thing, when I found myself with my dick in my hand, while I watched Dom’s head bob up and down in Matt’s lap. I don’t really know when that was. Doesn’t really matter now, does it? Fact is, I found myself enjoying seeing Matt and Dom together in that way, and them not knowing that I could see them doing it.  
  
It was like my own personal porn show, a couple of times a week, sometimes more, sometimes less, watched through a door jamb on a tour bus or in a dressing room. I knew it was wrong, of course I did. I was a married man, and much as what they were doing was morally questionable in relation to their own significant others, it still didn’t make it right that I was perving without their knowledge.  
  
But, shit, porn is porn, as far as I’m concerned. It got me off, didn’t hurt them because they didn’t know about it, and didn’t seem to change our relationships with each other as far as I was concerned. In every other aspect of our lives, it was business as usual.  
  
But then there was Tom.  
  
Oh, Tom. You had to go and throw a spanner in the bloody works, didn’t you?  
  
It seems nothing could ever happen with the three of us without Tom eventually getting involved. Though it wasn’t by choice, really, more by accident.  
  
Because he caught me with my hand in the biscuit tin. Or, more accurately, in my trousers, as it were.  
  
Must have been quite a sight; me jammed up against a cupboard in a dark tour bus, eye pressed to the gap of a partially opened door, rumpled dress clothes from an awards ceremony, and one hand working furiously between my legs. As Tom stepped into the narrow hallway, only a metre or so away from me, he froze. Even in the dark, I could see his cheeks colour at the scene laid before him, and he mumbled several expletives and an apology before rushing back out the door.  
  
The mood completely spoiled and my erection quickly softening in my grip, I gave one last glance through the doorway to make sure Matt and Dom hadn’t heard, before zipping up my trousers and bolting after Tom.  
  
He was already halfway back across the hotel car park and scurrying toward the walkway between the tennis courts when I caught up with him.  
  
“Fuck, Tom, wait,” I called, trying to keep my voice down in the silent gloom.  
  
He didn’t turn or stop, and just gestured awkwardly in front of me, shaking his head.  
  
“I’m sorry mate, I didn’t know you were – I was going back for some camera stuff – I didn’t realise...”  
  
Finally getting close enough to him, I reached out a hand, grabbing him by the shoulder and making him stop. I turned him around, and I could see the embarrassment written all over his face.  
  
“Look, it’s okay, we all do it, I just didn’t know you preferred the tour bus to our hotel rooms. I’ll know for next time; don’t go in the bus after dark because Chris likes to wank in there.”  
  
I rolled my eyes, aware that he was using humour to feel less uncomfortable about the whole thing.  
  
“That’s not why I was in there.”  
  
Tom raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Sure looked like it to me. What else were you doing? Cleaning your instrument?”  
  
“That’s not what I meant. Yeah, I was having a wank, I don’t deny that. But it’s not that I prefer the bus to the hotel because of some weird kink.”  
  
Okay, so that was slightly untrue, in a way, because Matt and Dom were my kink, and they preferred the bus. But I was also at a crossroads; I had to decide whether to expose both my own and their secret to Tom. But I couldn’t see any other option.  
  
“I was in there because Matt and Dom were in there.”  
  
Tom blinked, a slightly confused expression appearing on his face.  
  
“I didn’t see...”  
  
“You wouldn’t have. That was kind of the point. I was watching them through the doorway.”  
  
Trepidation began to creep onto his features at this point.  
  
“Doing what?”  
  
“What do you think?”  
  
Tom swallowed and he shook his head. But I could see it in his eyes and it was written all over his face; he believed it could be true.  
  
“Fucking?”  
  
His voice was strained, and I could tell he wanted me to say it was all just one big practical joke. But I couldn’t.  
  
“Something to that effect, yeah.”  
  
He made a face and then shook his head again, running a hand through his hair.  
  
“Matt and Dom are shagging each other?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“And you watch?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“ _Fuck_.”  
  
I gave him a few moments to let it all sink in, and to compose himself. It is quite a shock to find out such revelations about three people you’ve known for so long, and think you know so well.  
  
“Shit, Chris, what the fuck? I know you guys have had some out-there tastes over the years, and done more crazy shit than anyone I know, but this...? I don’t get this. I don’t, at all. Especially from you.”  
  
I sighed, flicking a glance around to make sure we were still alone, and hadn’t been noticed by security or other guests.  
  
“It’s just porn, Tom. Just fucking good porn, okay? I caught them by accident once, without them knowing it, quite a while ago. And then later realised I got off on it. End of story. Not a big deal.”  
  
A leaned against the fence surrounding the tennis courts, the wire giving slightly under my weight, and rubbed the back of my neck with one hand.  
  
“But this is Matt and Dom we’re talking about; your friends. You can’t get off watching your mates in a sexual situation, it’s just...weird.”  
  
I closed my eyes briefly and then opened them again, fixing my gaze on Tom’s bewildered expression.  
  
“I know, it should be, but it’s not. I can’t explain it. It’s just... fucking good. When they’re together, it’s different. You should see them, they’re just...”  
  
I trailed off, rubbing my hand over my face as I see Tom staring at me with wide eyes.  
  
“Look, it’s fucked up, I know . But I like it, and it’s not hurting anyone. At least...I’m not. Please don’t tell anyone, okay? Just forget about it.”  
  
Tom exhaled, fidgeting and standing awkwardly with one hand grasping the wire fence.  
  
“It’s not easy to forget something like that. But who the fuck would I tell, anyway?”  
  
He gave me a half-smile, still looking a little baffled, before standing back up straight again.  
  
“I don’t like this, but I’ll keep this secret. For all of you. That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? As the buffer between you and the rest of the world? But I think you should have a long think about what you’re doing, because if I caught you, it means someone else might too.”  
  
I nodded, and he turned to go, still visibly shaken from what he’d learnt that night. I didn’t stop him, but had a knot of worry begin to tighten in my stomach over what was to come. I wasn’t completely sure if Tom could keep his mouth shut, mostly in regards to Matt and Dom, and I was terrified of what they might think of me if they found out about my spying.  
  
But then, that false sense of security I had began to return, as everything carried on as per usual and Tom didn’t make any mention of the new knowledge he’d acquired. In fact, I give much credit to him for how utterly normal he acted that first week afterwards; even I couldn’t bloody tell there was anything different, though I was sure it was running through his head every second he was in our presence. He sure has honed those bullshit skills after all these years of dealing with media types.  
  
Maybe that’s why I was so stunned, when I found out one day that he’d followed me in my perverted stalkings.  
  
I was at work between my legs, engaged in my little bubble of lust, eyes glued to the two shadowy figures visible through the window, when I heard the shuffle of feet on the carpet behind me. I nearly had a fucking heart attack, blood rushing in my ears, and my hand froze in place around my half-hard dick.  
  
I turned to see Tom standing there, eyes glossy and dark in the gloom, one hand fidgeting on the fabric of his jeans. The sneaky fucker had opened the door and crept in without me even hearing him, and had been standing there God knows how long, watching me get off to my best friends again.  
  
He didn’t say anything, just crossed the last few steps to my spot at the window, and took position next to me, peering around the curtain I was peeking through.  
  
Dom and Matt were still going at it, shagging fully dressed against a wall in a little enclave around the back of the venue of the after-party. It was a bugger of a place to get to, and in the end I’d decided it less risky to creep back inside the building and find the closest window to watch from there. It wasn’t perfect, not exactly close enough to see much detail, but the window had curtains to hide behind, and I didn’t have to worry so much about being quiet.  
  
I stared at him, still half in shock, at he watched the scene through the window with curious, slightly wide eyes, his breathing shallow and nervous beside me. He blinked quickly a few times, and I couldn’t help feel a little smug as I watched his pupils dilate; he was enjoying this too. He licked his lips and my eyes darted down to see his hand twitch restlessly on the hip of his jeans, moving slowly but surely inwards along his abdomen.  
  
I heard and felt the warm, sharp exhalation of breath at my neck as he traced a hand between his legs, eyes still fixed out the window. I could see the erection growing in his jeans as he watched, and felt myself harden again in my palm.  
  
“Fuck, you were right, this is good.”  
  
It was murmured quietly, but I could still hear the desire in his voice as he spoke.  
  
My eyes tracked back to Matt and Dom, still mauling each other in the gloom outside, their hot breaths visible in the cold night air and making me glad I was inside enjoying this. I began the quick strokes up and down on myself again, not caring that Tom was here now while I was getting off. If he had a problem with it, he shouldn’t have followed me in the first place; he should have found his own secret spying opportunity. But he chose to piggy-back off mine, so would have to put up with having me in the room while he got off too.  
  
Clearly, he didn’t care, because as soon as I started back up on myself, his hands began fiddling at his fly and he’d yanked his dick out before I could even blink. Quick off the mark, and evidently trying to play catch-up with the rest of us, his hand worked furiously, expertly, his breathing speeding up accordingly to develop a gasping pace.  
  
I tore my eyes away from him again and fixed back at Matt and Dom, who were getting erratic and desperate in their movements now against the brick outside. Due to the chill in the air, they probably wanted to do this as quickly as possible, and get back to the party so their behaviour didn’t seem entirely suspicious. Though, with the four of us now absent from the celebrations, it might more easily be assumed by others that we were off organising last-minute music business.  
  
I don’t know how long it was in the end, probably a few minutes, with both myself and Tom panting and fixated on the silhouettes outside, arms jerking rapidly upon our bodies, before the tight coil inside my belly began to unravel. Muscles tensing and my hand pressing hard with a couple of final strokes, pleasure suddenly washed over me and I grunted, coming against my abdomen and over my fingers.  
  
Only moments later, there was a choke from Tom and I knew he was coming too, though I daren’t turn my head to confirm it. Outside, both Matt and Dom’s movements jerked and faltered as well, and it became clear that their activities had reached the pinnacle.  
  
I rode out the last ebbs of my orgasm, Tom’s gasping breaths in my ear, and the shadows of Dom and Matt spent against the wall in my vision. With my other hand, I reached sluggishly into my pocket, drawing out several tissues to clean myself up with, before passing the spares to Tom. He accepted them gratefully, clearly not thinking that far ahead when he’d decided to join me in this, and I turned my head to hide the amused smile on my lips.  
  
We didn’t really speak then, maybe a few muttered acknowledgements about getting back to the party and quips about Dom and Matt being dirty little perverts, but nothing deep and meaningful. It occurred to me that in that way, we were very different to Matt and Dom, how they would be in any kind of situation like that. With Matt’s upfront, brazen attitude to his friends, and Dom’s relaxed demeanour and honesty, they would have talked things through and attempted to work out exactly what was going on.  
  
But not me and Tom. We deferred to the good old British tradition of shutting up and pretending everything was exactly how it was before, like none of it had ever happened. And even in the days and weeks afterwards, we never discussed what it meant for us personally, just heaped the entire blame and perversion on Matt and Dom, as though we weren’t the ones enjoying it, only them. I think that was the only way we could continue on, repeating the activity of that night over and over again to get our fix.  
  
It was odd, the way we became partners in crime in this. Just like Dom and Matt had become; during all our years of friendship, the way they would sneak off together to stir up trouble, pull women and consume illegal substances, with me and Tom trailing behind, never quite in the loop. We’d never really clicked as a pair to be their counterparts, just remained as amused observers.  
  
Until now.  
  
Somehow, something like this had brought us together, and next thing we knew, we were plotting and whispering, exchanging knowing glances and devious smiles. I became adept at knowing what Tom was thinking, what mischievous things I could murmur to get a rise out of him, and sense when he was getting antsy for another spying session.  
  
And he, in turn, began to know me better than he had before. He began to understand my separation of wife and family, Matt and Dom, in terms of my emotions and desires, and how all aspects of my life existed in a delicate balance in my head and my heart.  
  
We talked more than we had done in the past; about Matt and Dom, about sex in general, about our rootless existence, and the irony of the difficulty we’d made for ourselves in our otherwise effortless lives. He told me things he said he’d never told anyone else, and I was surprised, on a number of occasions, at the unexpectedly sensitive side of a friend I’d always thought of as flippant and brash.  
  
And again, once you calm down about the situation you find yourself in, your vigilance diminishes and you become less aware of just how different you’ve become by indulging in these fantasies. Because you become so immersed in this world, you don’t realise certain changes that take place within yourself and your relationships with other people.  
  
But both Matt and Dom noticed. Not in regards to themselves, but to myself and Tom. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, didn’t worry about them becoming suspicious of our behaviour because clearly they didn’t have a clue that we were spying on them. And that was all that really mattered at the time.  
  
I should have paid more attention.  
  
Matt mentioned, more than once, that me and Tom seemed closer than before, suddenly the best of friends. I think I just shrugged and dismissed it, citing his and Dom’s close relationship as isolating us sometimes, so we’d started to hang out more. Which was a stupid thing to say really, because Dom and him had been that way for years, and it had never happened before now.  
  
I think Matt just assumed we could connect more now because Tom had been seriously attached for some time, and we could relate to each other as devoted partners. Of course, Matt was engaged, but his relationship with Gaia had always been understood to be a fairly open one, and he and I never saw eye to eye on that side of things.  
  
But like I said, I didn’t think anything of the way me and Tom were with each other, as we continued to satisfy our cravings for live porn. Sometimes I would be the one to settle down first with a good view and start the wank session, sometimes Tom would. But I think I ignored the warning signs that would have told me that things were about to change irrevocably between the two of us.  
  
Like how we unconsciously began to sit closer and closer to one another in those dark places, pretending it was just to keep out of view and to see better. Or how sometimes my free hand would slip from its place gripped on my leg to Tom’s knee when I was about to come. Or the way I could feel his heavy breaths on my neck, and his grunts turned into soft moans in my ear as he leaned over to stare at Matt and Dom. Or how we both seemed to come quicker at the closer proximity and stolen sideways glances we pretended we weren’t giving one another.  
  
I think the turning point in our interaction came the night we were watching Matt get fucked yet again by Dom, when the both of them seemed excessively impatient and overly horny. There was very little foreplay, and I could see on Matt’s face that it made penetration slightly more uncomfortable as a result, but after a few moments he didn’t care and just forced Dom’s hand quickly downward.  
  
Tom and I could barely keep up as they grunted and groaned, hips bucking rapidly and hands working at breakneck speed to obtain pleasure as quickly as possible. I don’t know whether it was because of post-gig high, or Matt’s lack of contact with Gaia of late, but both of them seemed to want it hard and fast with few complexities.  
  
Before we could even think of coming up with an alternative, and both of us only halfway to the pleasure target, Matt and Dom were gasping, moaning, shuddering with orgasm within our view.  
  
But neither myself or Tom even hesitated in our motions; the fact that our objects of arousal were spent and no longer providing the entertainment didn’t seem to matter. I closed my eyes and kept up the rapid strokes, unwilling to deny myself the pleasure this far into it.  
  
I felt Tom shift beside me, the heat radiating off his body more than noticeable, and he choked out a particularly guttural sound that sent an involuntary shiver through me. Without thinking, I opened my eyes and glanced over at him, only to find his gaze already fixed on me.  
  
Squeezing my erection particularly hard on the downstroke, I moaned softly as I took in the hungry expression on Tom’s face and the sight of him wanking right beside me. Though I suppressed it at the time, I know that was the first time I’d ever felt myself turned on by a man. With Matt and Dom, it was the sex itself that was the turn on, how they were with each other, not that I actually found either of them personally attractive.  
  
But it was different with Tom.  
  
I got off on the way he looked at me, and the way he looked himself in that aroused state. My eyes tracked quickly over his form, flushed and tense as he touched himself, and committing to memory the image of his hardened cock in his hand.  
  
And I couldn’t take it.  
  
I started coming, mouth hanging open and eyes heavy lidded, drawn in his direction. I saw him watching me then, the expression on my face, and his breath hitched as his grip tightened, body starting to convulse. He followed me quickly in his orgasm, and looked equally surprised by the swiftness of it’s approach, his head straining back against the tour bus wall.  
  
I swallowed hard, my head reeling as I cleaned myself up, sneaking glances in Tom’s direction every now and then. He seemed to be doing the same, and I was sure I saw a slight shake in his hands as they straightened up his boxers and trousers, zipping up the fly.  
  
Once again, right afterward, neither of us said anything about what had happened. But the tension and implicit awareness of a change between us hung heavy in the air.  
  
He left without a word, and I slunk silently out the bus back to my hotel room.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, nothing seemed different. It was like it never happened, and I managed to convince myself that nothing had really changed. Our encounter was the same as all those times before, and just because we came after Matt and Dom, it didn’t mean anything.  
  
But the tension was there, in every interaction, every conversation we had, each and every single day from then on. I could feel the heavy weight of attraction building between us, an electricity in the air when our eyes met, or when we touched accidentally during meetings or drinks with the others.  
  
Still, I just pretended it wasn’t there. Continued to tell myself me and Tom were how we’d always been; the two of us good mates that travelled the world together as part of the Muse troupe.  
  
And I was fine in my blissful world of ignorance, until Tom decided to rip me out of it.  
  
I don’t know whether it was a deliberate, calculated move in response to my denial of the whole affair, or if he just got caught up in the moment and took a gamble. I guess it doesn’t really matter either way now.  
  
It was not long after the delayed orgasm incident, in quite similar circumstances to our initial voyeuristic expedition together, with the two of us watching Matt and Dom from the safety of a distant room, behind a window.  
  
We were about halfway through again, when Tom permanently altered our relationship and showed me exactly the kind of person I’d become.  
  
Either I was so caught up that night, or he was fantastically stealthy, that I didn’t notice his movement toward me until I felt an extra set of warm fingers wrap around my aching length.  
  
I tensed, a sharp cry escaping my lips at the sensation, and I turned my head to look at him. I could see slight fear in his eyes, probably worried I might belt him one any second. But I didn’t. I didn’t stop him.  
  
I let him start to stroke me, tentatively at first, until I slid my own hand over his to guide him. He tightened his grip and shifted his fingers, adjusting to how I felt, and I groaned as a second wave of intense pleasure washed over me at his touch.  
  
I knew I should have returned the favour and reached over to take him in my palm, but the combination of the blissful enjoyment and utter terror at what was happening left me unable to act. His own hand continued on himself, and I wondered later if he got sore muscles at any point from pleasuring both of us at the same time, though it didn’t seem to diminish his fervour.  
  
I squirmed, hips bucking as he touched me, and my mouth fell open to take in sharp breaths, eyes still unable to tear away from his. His gaze pinned me to the spot, so full of heat and unmistakable want, and I could barely process how incredible his hand felt squeezing up and down at an increasingly rapid rate.  
  
I let him touch me, however he wanted, for as long as he wanted, I didn’t protest at all. In fact, I can say I encouraged him, with my eager fingers wrapped around his and pathetic whines emerging from my throat, that made it abundantly clear how much I was enjoying what he was doing to me.  
  
My head lolled back, the sight of Dom and Matt long forgotten now, as the familiar burn of pressure increased in my pelvis and I began skittering closer and closer to that knife edge. Tom watched me, his pupils dark and dilated, a light sweat forming on his brow and his breathing increasingly ragged.  
  
My head filled with images of the different ways I could draw that same response from him, using my own hands and body, my own mouth. I bit my lip at the thought, too much for me to contemplate then, in combination with the sight of him aroused and beside me, his hand upon me.  
  
And just like that, I was swept away, orgasm hitting me hard, and a cursed groan falling unconsciously from my lips. I was like a school boy, coming much too quickly, but I couldn’t stop when Tom looked at me the way he did that night. My body shuddered, my release spilling over both his hand and mine, and I struggled to control my breathing as I rode out my orgasm.  
  
“Oh fuck, _Chris_...”  
  
His words were whispered, choked from him in one last gasp, before spasms wracked his form and he was coming with me. I remember watching in the dark, the quick bursts of come as they spilled from his cock, completely mesmerised, as if I’d never seen anything like it before in my life. In my head, it was a clear manifestation of exactly what reactions touching me and watching me this way incited in him.  
  
As I began to still, my body spent and trembling, I found my head filling with a thousand worries and questions that I had no hope of solving. We sat for a few moments in the dark, not moving or speaking, the air hot and filled with the smell of sex, and our heavy breaths the only sound punctuating the silence.  
  
I shifted first, using my free hand to grab tissues and once again hand them over to Tom. My breath caught in my throat as he released me, my skin already beginning to protest at the absence of his touch upon me.  
  
We cleaned up quickly, awkwardly, and every passing moment became tenser with the weight of what had just occurred between us. There was so much that needed to be said, so many questions that needed to be asked of one another and of ourselves.  
  
But I was a coward.  
  
As soon as I’d done my trousers up, I bolted for the door, leaving Tom bewildered and exhausted on the couch. He didn’t call out, or follow me, though I know he really should have. He was probably just as terrified as me.  
  
The next few days were agony.  
  
We didn’t speak, and avoided each other as much as possible. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, because I knew if I did, it would bring all those memories flooding back. And my body would remind me just how good it had been, him touching me that way. I didn’t want to deal with that.  
  
Obviously, Matt and Dom knew something was up. Dom questioned me on several occasions, surmising that Tom and I had had a falling out over something but didn’t want to tell them what it was. I eventually relented in my silence, and led him to believe that was the case, but firmly stated I didn’t want to talk any more about it.  
  
But I couldn’t live like that; Tom was our media manager and it would be fucking ridiculous for me to expect to continue evading him and not be able to hold a decent conversation. My barriers of self-preservation began to fall down bit by bit, and I found myself stealing glances at him once more, my belly tightening in knots at the sight of him.  
  
He began to notice me watching him, and would shoot furtive looks in my direction, occasionally catching my eye. After a few more days of this dancing around one another, the glances began to linger, and hopeful smiles started to play upon his lips. After the first couple, I returned them, and noticed relief beginning to permeate his demeanour from then on.  
  
We still didn’t speak properly, but the icy strain between us was beginning to melt, and both Matt and Dom seemed to notice the decrease in anxiety in the air. Taking it as a good sign, Matt coaxed us into extended lengths of time spent together, the four of us, and would often attempt to stimulate conversation between myself and Tom.  
  
Dom too, quickly caught onto the game, and would continually pretend to need to speak to Matt about something, or help him order more drinks, leaving the two of us alone for longer periods. I usually just stared down into my beer until they returned, or Tom would make small talk strictly about business affairs, but both of us persisted in ignoring the large elephant in the room.  
  
I had resolved that all this was a sharp lesson in what happens when I let my guard down, and that I needed to manage my indulgences more carefully. I’d gotten carried away with watching Matt and Dom, gotten careless, and therefore let Tom in on the whole complicated experience. That was the reason for the incident between me and Tom, I told myself.  
  
And I thought I’d done a pretty good job of convincing myself that was how it was. Which is why I’m at a loss to explain how I ended up kissing Tom in a dark corridor of the venue we were playing that night.  
  
I’d pulled him aside when Matt and Dom had pissed off somewhere after sound check, with the intention of clearing the air and putting the whole saga behind us. But somehow, I found myself pinning his shoulders to the wall and covering his mouth with mine.  
  
It was clumsy as hell, because I wasn’t used to kissing someone of his build or stature, and I rushed it with the tongue and probably too much saliva. But far from reprimand me for any of it, I felt Tom’s hands snake behind my neck and knot in my hair, pulling me harder against him.  
  
And as we snogged, fervently, awkwardly, in that grotty little corridor, the truth of it all was finally laid out in the open for us both to see; we wanted each other.  
  
Even still, when we broke apart, I found myself unable to deal with it, and scarpered again.  
  
I tracked down Matt and Dom some time later, who informed me they were in a nearby pub having a beer to relax before the show. We were in the US, so the gathering of us together somewhere close to the venue on the night wasn’t as risky as it was back home. I advised them I’d meet them there too, and made my way over quickly, trying to erase all incidents of that afternoon out of my head.  
  
That’s why I nearly fucking bottled it and ran away when I saw Tom sitting there with them when I arrived. His eyes met mine with a heavy, knowing gaze, and I had to force myself those last few steps over to the table in order not to look suspicious.  
  
And of course, the only spare seat in the booth was next to Tom.  
  
Fuck.  
  
I think Dom and Matt had done it on purpose to further coerce the two of us back into a proper friendship. But they weren’t aware of just how complicated everything had become between me and Tom.  
  
I sat down next to him, trying to sit at a distance not too close to feel his body heat, but not too far that it would be obvious to Matt and Dom that I was trying to avoid him. They seemed pleased that I didn’t make a big deal out of it, and began a discussion of the plans for the after-party.  
  
They talked of the excellent DJ that had been wrangled for the evening, and that the particular club was supposed to be a really posh venue used by high society types.  
  
“Well, I’m glad we can bring a little more low brow entertainment to the place then,” Tom laughed. “No doubt we’ll be hearing for weeks about all the vulgarity and debauchery Muse inflicted on this poor town.”  
  
Dom laughed and Matt giggled mischievously.  
  
“It’ll be good for them, give them a taste of unique English culture,” Dom chuckled.  
  
“I don’t think that’s _culture_ they’ll be tasting of you, mate,” Matt snickered.  
  
Tom and I both stifled a laugh, as Dom looked slightly affronted.  
  
“What are you trying to say?” he inquired.  
  
“You’re a slapper,” Matt replied simply.  
  
“Easy.”  
  
“That’s what I said.”  
  
I couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled through me now, and Tom looked over at me, sharing my wide grin. I felt my stomach flutter as we exchanged a knowing glance.  
  
“He’s not the only loose one in this camp, so there’s no need to single him out,” Tom pointed out.  
  
I choked on my beer at this point.  
  
When I’d recovered, I looked up to see Tom’s eyes glittering with mischief and Matt making huffing noises of irritation.  
  
“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply Tom, but I can tell you that I’m a faithful and devoted man with a fiancée.”  
  
The remainder of us all laughed hard at this, and Matt rolled his eyes, sighing in resignation.  
  
“Okay, fine, you know how it is. But at least I’m picky with my selections.”  
  
Trying to hide a further smile, my eyes locked with Tom’s again.  
  
“Yeah, I heard you like blondes that treat you rough,” I goaded. “That’s quite a niche market.”  
  
It was Tom’s turn to choke on his beer.  
  
I glanced over to see a blush rising in the cheeks of both Dom and Matt, and I pondered for a few moments about exposing their secret.  
  
“W-Where did you hear that?” he asked, a slightly indignant tone to his voice.  
  
I shrugged.  
  
“I know how you like to be controlled in the bedroom, you’ve made no secret of that. And I figured maybe you were in the mood for something different after all those goth girls and brunettes in your past,” I said breezily. “Took a wild stab in the dark.”  
  
The relief was evident on Matt and Dom’s face as they assumed their secret was still safe. I didn’t really see any reason to make things even more complicated for all of us, by admitting that both Tom and I knew about them fucking each other.  
  
The conversation then resumed a less vulgar tone, interspersed with bits and pieces of tech talk about the show that night, and the gigs coming up over the next few weeks.  
  
Tom had shuffled himself closer to me during all of this, and I found myself not wanting to shy away from his close proximity. His leg brushed mine as I shifted under the table, and our eyes were drawn together at the contact.  
  
I watched him swallow thickly, and felt the crackle of electricity between us in anticipation.  
  
While Dom and Matt were distracted by involvement in their own conversation, Tom leaned his head closer, speaking quietly above the din of the pub.  
  
“You want to ditch the after-party tonight?”  
  
I didn’t need it spelled out, what he meant by that.  
  
I nodded.  
  
“Come round my hotel room. Give it a little bit so it doesn’t look too suspect. Plus I’ve got to give Kelly a call before I head to bed.”  
  
He winced at this.  
  
“This isn’t about her, Tom. It’s about me. I mean, really, aren’t you surprised I’ve even lasted this long without being tempted by someone else?”  
  
This drew a wry smile from him, and he nodded.  
  
The conversation ended there and we were drawn back to the more frivolous banter of Dom and Matt once again.


	3. Chapter 3

Tom did turn up at my hotel room that night, and we fucked.  
  
It was awkward, clumsy and at times, downright painful for Tom, but we got there in the end. It wasn’t mind-blowing or wonderful by anyone’s standards, but it felt good and seemed like a huge weight lifted off both our shoulders.  
  
We lay on the bed afterwards, in our boxers and t-shirts, and talked in halted fragments and uncertain tones about everything that had happened. We knew it wasn’t right, but we both wanted to do it again.  
  
Tom’s always had this slightly nihilistic viewpoint on life, which allows him to act on instinct and not feel guilty about too many things. That’s not to say that he’s like that all the time, but it’s a throw-caution-to-the-wind side of him that has, in part, allowed the band to get this far. And it was useful for him in the situation we now found ourselves inhabiting, and could further support by reasoning that Matt and Dom were already doing the same as us.  
  
My mood was weird and contemplative, not something I was used to straight after sex, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself. Tom shifted on the bed next to me and scratched idly at his side, causing the edge of his t-shirt to ride up and expose bare skin again. My eyes were drawn to it unconsciously, and I found myself thinking how something as mundane as that would never have even registered with me before now. And I kept thinking how only moments ago I’d had my hands all over that damp, heated skin, and felt the warmth inside him squeeze around me as I made him come.  
  
I felt strangely disconnected from it all, as though I was watching everything from an outside viewpoint, and it wasn’t really me that had done these things. I found it difficult to reconcile the old relationship I’d had with Tom for all these years, with the new desires that stirred within me, regarding him in a sexual manner. It didn’t seem to fit.  
  
Tom lifted his head up and glanced over at me.  
  
“You don’t happen to have any cigarettes around the place, do you mate?” he enquired. “I fucking left mine in my other jacket back in my room.”  
  
Strictly speaking, I’d given up smoking, but that didn’t mean I was a bloody saint.  
  
I gestured to my case in the corner of the room.  
  
“Should be some left from when I was back home. Second zip pocket from the right inside the suitcase lid.”  
  
Tom raised an eyebrow at me as he sat up off the bed and made his way over.  
  
“Thought you’d quit.”  
  
“I have. Don’t start. Just need to satisfy the craving occasionally.”  
  
I watched a slight flush creep its way up Tom’s neck as he rifled through the bag to find them. I was aware of how those words sounded between us right then too.  
  
The heavy silence was just begging for a smart-arse Bellamy quip or knowing Howard smirk. But neither of us said anything.  
  
Pulling on his jeans but not bothering to do them up, Tom wandered over to the balcony doors of my hotel room and pushed them open, stepping out into the still night air.  
  
He lit up a cigarette, the burning end casting an eerie glow on his face, and he took a few long drags before glancing back at me.  
  
Feeling my fingers itch at the familiar scent that lingered in the air, I reached for my own trousers and joined him on the balcony. He offered me the pack but I declined, instead slipping my fingers over his to steal the cigarette he was holding.  
  
The contact was enough to bring all those thoughts rushing to the front of my mind again, and I was glad to have the nicotine there now to calm my nerves a little.  
  
“This is really weird.”  
  
I nodded in agreement, taking another draw from the cancer stick.  
  
“I know,” I murmured on the exhale, blowing smoke out over the balcony edge.  
  
It hung there listlessly, the damn dense air of the US mid-west trapping everything in its thick fingers. It was times like these I longed for the biting chill of the Devon coast.  
  
“So what is it then, this thing we’re doing?” I asked, breaking the silence.  
  
Tom shrugged, looking over at me for a moment. I could tell he didn’t like to let his gaze linger too long either.  
  
“Don’t know. Does it have to be something? Have a name I mean?”  
  
I mirrored his ambivalent shrug.  
  
“Guess not.”  
  
If this had been Matt and Dom, that conversation would have not gone the same way.  
  
Matt, with his blunt and upfront attitude, would have insisted on specifying exactly what this arrangement was, and what the ground rules would be. And Dom would have been perfectly fine with that, just going with the flow and approaching the entire escapade in his usual blasé manner.  
  
But not us. We’re not like that. At least, I know I’m not.  
  
I think that’s the reason I didn’t actually allow myself to fuck him properly again for a couple of weeks after that first night. It took me a while to get used to the idea; me and him, together, physically, intimately. It’s quite something to get your head around, you know.  
  
That’s not to say I cut him off completely, as I’d done before. In the mean time, we sustained ourselves with quick snogs and gropes, and Tom blowing me for the first time in the back corner of the tour bus very late one night.  
  
It was dark, hot and cramped, and Tom simply unzipped my fly and went to work, while my hands gripped the dingy cushions of the shitty, small seating we were perched on. I didn’t dare grab his head at all during it.  
  
When he was finished, I sat there in a bit of a daze, and didn’t really think about it when he lifted his head back up to kiss me. I made a face at the taste of myself on his tongue, and clipped him upside the head, wrenching away.  
  
“Agh, fucking hell, you bastard!” I cursed at him.  
  
He started laughing, and I tried to fight the smile twitching on my lips.  
  
“Don’t see why I have to be the only one that puts up with a bad taste in my mouth, eh?” he replied.  
  
I shoved him indignantly, watching his eyes twinkle with mischief in the gloom, and felt slightly offended by his apparent dislike of going down on me. Not that I should have been that surprised.  
  
“Well, I would have at some point.”  
  
Tom looked at me with a slightly stunned expression. I don’t think he was expecting me to be up for returning the favour, or to be quite so honest about it.  
  
I think I shocked myself too, the words slipping past my lips before I’d really thought them through. I’m pretty sure it was down to the way my brain had stopped functioning properly once Tom had closed his mouth over me that night.  
  
I shifted, zipping my fly back up with wobbly hands.  
  
“Not right now, I mean. But later. Maybe. I don’t know.”  
  
His cheeks coloured, probably at the prospect of me with my head between his legs.  
  
I reached over to the tiny table where I’d abandoned my beer earlier, and reclaimed the bottle, pressing it into Tom’s hand and insisting he finish it off. There was no way I’d be able to kiss him again while he still tasted like that, so if he wanted to get off too, he’d have to down it.  
  
I might be fucking around with a bloke these days, but I’ll still take the acrid flavour of too much bourbon or stale beer in someone’s mouth over the taste of dick or come, no question about it. It’s really something I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to.  
  
That said, it’s not the case all round with me and Tom; I’ve gotten used to everything else now.  
  
Once I had become more comfortable with the new circumstances of my life, the sex started up again, and we grew slightly better with practice. Though I’m sure it’s not at all graceful, or particularly enjoyable to watch by any stretch of the imagination. Our bodies aren’t lithe and elegant like Matt’s, or tanned and tautly muscled like Dom’s, so there’s not much chance of us looking as appealing as they do when they fuck. But it doesn’t matter.  
  
I like the expressions on Tom’s face when I take hold of him, and that raw look of utter ecstasy that washes over him when he’s coming. Knowing that it’s me that induces those states is enough to get me off, and makes me want to hold him down and fuck him until I come hard inside him.  
  
How we manage to find each other attractive enough to allow that kind of violation is a question I don’t have an answer to.  
  
He’s on the short side, stocky and slightly hairy like me, and I’m tall, burly and hardly what you’d call graceful. We’re not effeminate and evenly matched like Matt and Dom, and sometimes the logistics of our coupling can be a little mind-boggling.  
  
Especially when he wants to fuck me.  
  
Yes, even though I’m naturally the one who’s left to do the fucking due to my larger frame, sometimes we do reverse roles. It is an uncomfortable sensation, I’ll admit, as I’m sure it is for Tom most of the time, but in a contradictory way, it also feels good.  
  
Maybe it’s the complete vulnerability that overtakes when someone penetrates your body like that, makes you feel freer and acts as a turn-on. But I think it’s more to do with the position Tom insists on; me on my back with my legs hitched up and him bearing down over me. I can see his face so clearly there, watch him openly as he fucks me, and enjoys fucking me.  
  
As nice as it would be to say otherwise, I still do come quicker when I’m inside him, rather than the other way around.  
  
This is no fucking romance, after all.  
  
And we’ve long since given up on the spying of Matt and Dom when they’re going at it. I’m pretty sure it’s still going on, but it no longer holds the excitement for me that it once did.  
  
Though, I’ll admit our loss of interest in Matt and Dom did raise their suspicions for a while. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly how Tom and I acted differently, because we actually became much more vigilant and careful with our behaviour, but somehow they knew something had changed.  
  
I sometimes think Matt has some kind of ESP with the way he reads people.  
  
Once again, he began pointing out how familiar me and Tom had become recently, though to start with it was never anything more than what sounded like petty jealousy. As though himself and Dom were the only ones in our convoluted network of relationships that were allowed to be that close.  
  
Until one day, his lines of questioning and tones in his voice suggested that he thought something more dubious was going on between me and Tom. There was no mistaking the implication behind his words, as he obviously decided he wasn’t going to keep his suspicions to himself anymore.  
  
“I’m just saying, some people might get the wrong idea.”  
  
I looked over at him while I fiddled with my bass in the rehearsal room, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“What kind of wrong idea?” I inquired, not allowing him to trap me into saying something that might give me away.  
  
I’d learnt my lesson multiple times now, about keeping my immoral dealings a secret, and not letting my guard down. I’d also picked up some things from Tom about spinning bullshit and weaselling my way out of questions I didn’t want to answer, so Matt wasn’t quite as good at interrogating me as he had been in the past.  
  
I watched the side of his mouth twitch as he picked up his own guitar and sat down on a nearby seat.  
  
“Oh, you know what those media wankers are like; they’ll think you’re bloody gay or something. Make up bullshit from the thinnest of premises.”  
  
I laughed at this, partly because it was clear he was trying to avoid accusing me outright, and partly because I was sure I’d said something almost identical to him many years ago when the band first started to get famous.  
  
“What, like with you and Dom?” I asked.  
  
I enjoyed the way he frowned and his fingers fidgeted on the guitar strings.  
  
“Yeah, like that. They’ve been running with that one for years.”  
  
I had to suppress the urge to shout out how exactly fucking right they were about it.  
  
“Well, I hardly think me and Tom are anything like you and Dom in that way, anyway,” I answered nonchalantly. “You’ve said it yourself, Dom dresses like a flaming queen, and you both _have_ been overly physical with one another in the past, so it isn’t surprising they draw those conclusions. Me and Tom don’t act like that, so I don’t think we’ve really got that much to worry about in that respect.”  
  
He bit his lip, his eyes down on the strings.  
  
“I know you don’t fuck around tackling each other, like me and Dom used to do, or any other physical shit like that, but they might pick up on other things,” Matt persisted. “They can be bloody nosey when they want to.”  
  
I stopped at this, allowing my bass to hang free against me.  
  
“What other things?”  
  
He shrugged, his eyes now locking onto mine.  
  
“Spending so much time together.”  
  
I snorted.  
  
“He’s our media manager and one of my best friends, that’s hardly a cause for alarm.”  
  
Matt licked his lips, his own fingers stilled over the strings.  
  
“Yeah, but alone, without me and Dom. And no-one knows where the fuck you two are sometimes.”  
  
I rolled my eyes and shrugged. I refused to let his penetrating gaze get to me, like it does so many other people.  
  
“You two do that all the fucking time, and it’s never really bothered the rest of us. Why are you suddenly so concerned that it’s me and Tom doing it?”  
  
“I didn’t say I gave a shit what you do. I just meant other people might.”  
  
“Oh, fuck off, sounds to me like it’s you that has the problem with us. Just fucking say that, if that’s what you think.”  
  
Matt paused at my accusation.  
  
“Well, maybe a bit, but you have to admit that the two of you seem attached at the hip these days.”  
  
“Come on Matt, like you and Dom are any different? I’ve never seriously called you on any of that shit, and it’s been going on for years.”  
  
“Yeah, but me and Dom _are_ different. Like you said, we’ve always been like that. You and Tom haven’t. It creeps me out a bit sometimes.”  
  
“What the fuck, man?! So, it’s perfectly alright for you two to act ambiguous and for it to not mean anything suspect, but as soon as it’s someone else, it does?”  
  
“Er, yes.”  
  
“And what is it, exactly, you think is going on then? What do you think me and Tom are up to?”  
  
He hesitated at this. I don’t think he was expecting me to be so upfront with him.  
  
“I don’t know. Thought maybe you were involved somehow. Physically or whatever.”  
  
“You think we’re _fucking_?” I laughed.  
  
His eyes widened at this. Far from him being sneaky and catching me out, _I_ was the one with the upper hand in this conversation, shocking him with my frank manner. It was an amusing sight to see; Matthew Bellamy suddenly at a loss for words and unsure of how to proceed in a situation with me.  
  
“Shit, I don’t know. It sounds crazy, okay, I know that,” he said finally, swallowing and fiddling with his guitar again. “But you’ve both been acting a bit weird, and seem different somehow. I just thought maybe...”  
  
“You thought maybe I’d decided I like dick instead and wanted to start shagging my best friend?” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.  
  
“Well, not _instead_ , necessarily. Maybe, _as well_.”  
  
I snorted again, shaking my head again.  
  
“Well, what about you then?”  
  
“What about me?”  
  
“You’re the one making the argument for why it’s reasonable to think that two best mates who are unusually close could be secretly giving it to each other on the side. Seems to me it could apply to you too.”  
  
It was gone in a split second, but I saw panic wash briefly over Matt’s features.  
  
“No, that’s not what I meant. Me and Dom aren’t like that.”  
  
“It could be seen that way. You said it yourself.”  
  
“Well, we’re not, okay. Don’t even start.”  
  
“I’m just going off what you said, mate. By your logic, if its seems reasonable that me and Tom are fucking each other, then it must mean you and Dom are too.”  
  
I could see a battle waging behind those icy blue eyes of his, as it suddenly occurred to him what I was implying. If he were to press on with the idea that Tom and me were fucking, then it meant admitting his own secret liaisons with Dom. I wasn’t sure if he was ready to own up to that.  
  
“So, is that a yes, then? You really are taking it up the arse from Dom?”  
  
It’s a rare occasion that anything anyone says makes Matt flinch or cringe in any way; it’s fair to say that in general, he has absolutely no shame and no subject embarrasses him.  
  
But that day, he did. My words cut right to the bone, and even now I think he realised that I knew it was the truth.  
  
“No, fuck off, of course not,” he snapped, composing himself. “Are you playing arse bandits with Tom?”  
  
I knew an acidic retort was coming, so I wasn’t at all put off by his words. I laughed again.  
  
“No, I’m not.”  
  
“Fine, okay then.”  
  
“Good, I’m glad we cleared that up.”  
  
And that was the end of it.  
  
From that day on, Matt never mentioned his suspicions ever again. Oh, I’m sure he still thinks something is going on; I can see it in the way he sneaks wary glances at me and Tom now and again. But he doesn’t voice it.  
  
I’m not sure whether it’s simply the fear of me exposing his secret, or if he’s afraid of actually knowing the truth. To be honest, I don’t think he can handle the thought of me and Tom sleeping together, and I think he knows that. Despite his love for bending and breaking social rules, I think this would be too much for him.  
  
I’m aware that he and Dom seem to take me as some kind of moral yardstick; judging their own behaviour against what I do. Because I’m supposed to be the normal one. The guy with wife and kids, and a nice little house down in Devon, white picket fence and all that shit.  
  
Okay, I know I’m not a saint, never have been, and I’m younger than both of them anyway, but they’ve always seemed to see me as steady rock of ethical behaviour. And so for me to be cheating on my wife, with a man, one of our best friends, might be somewhat incomprehensible to Matt. He wouldn’t know what the fuck to do with himself, because everything he thought he knew about me and the rest of us, is wrong.  
  
So, it’s understandable if he thinks it’s better to live in denial, and I’m fine with keeping up that charade. It’s easier for everyone, really.


	4. Epilogue

Don’t get me wrong, in no way do I think this entire situation is actually easy or simple in any way. I’ve paid the price for letting my guard down before, and Tom is equally paranoid about getting caught out. So we always make sure we cover up anything that might be viewed as suspicious, and don’t get too greedy with our desire.  
  
We never palm off our better halves for some seedy liaison, or sneak off together during after-parties to screw up against the side of a bus. That kind of behaviour might be fine for a bloke in an open relationship, because the fallout wouldn’t be quite so bad, but it’s not something either myself or Tom can risk.  
  
No, we keep this simple, only out of necessity, and accepted as something we get from each other for fear of going crazy if we don’t. So I guess, even having an extra-marital affair, I’m still keeping things pretty conservative. Although I suppose the fact that it’s with someone of the same sex isn’t what you’d call conservative. But in the Muse world of insanities, it’s pretty damn low on the oddity scale.  
  
And it isn’t a regular occurrence in the slightest. There’s never set days or times, or how many times a week we think we need to do it. It’s more the case of when it happens, it happens, because one of us simply suggested it or we unexpectedly got some time alone together.  
  
Though it was fairly frequent at first, because of us being slap-bang in the middle of touring the US at the time. I couldn’t get home very often, and the travelling time in that country was infinitely greater than our usual tours, so all of us pretty much lived in each other’s pockets anyway. It was easy enough to slip into a quiet corner of the bus when everyone else was asleep, or visit each other’s hotel rooms without much hassle.  
  
Clearly, when the touring petered off, so too did our involvement, but that was never a big deal. Like I said, it’s more out of convenience than anything, so when I’m home, it doesn’t even cross my mind.  
  
That said, I have noticed that it’s been a while since we were together last. None of us see Tom as much when we’re not touring, for obvious reasons, and since we’ve been working on the new album, it’s generally just been studio work with the three of us. Tom knows to leave us to it for the most part when we’re trying to grind out new songs, and he has his own media shit to organise in preparation for the new album and future tours anyway.  
  
So, not exactly much chance for us to nip off for a quick shag somewhere, not without drawing suspicion anyway. But several days ago Tom informed us he wanted to organise a few proper meetings up in London, to sort out album and touring bullshit. I never know about any of that crap, and don’t really give a fuck about the promotion side to be honest, but I know we’ve got to do it sometime. Matt said he wanted to start trying to arrange the mixing of the album up there anyway, so I didn’t really have any valid objections.  
  
When Tom called me about it, I knew straight away what he was implying about us staying up there. He said he wanted me, Matt and Dom to hang around for a few days, full days, and would organise a hotel for us. Dom still has a place in London, so that ruled him out, and we both knew Matt would be keen to kip over Dom’s, so that just left me.  
  
Only the two of us turning up to some hotel in the middle of London was not exactly the best idea, but he soon made it clear we wouldn’t be meeting up there anyway. I’m not sure who else knows this, but Tom actually has a flat in London, as well as his place with Gabrielle in Southampton. He bought it a few years ago, just for convenience when he needed to stay over in the city for business, and never got rid of it when he and Gabby moved in together.  
  
I don’t even know if she knows about it. He doesn’t use it very often; it’s only a tiny one-bedroom place up in a flash block of flats for corporate-types. A bit decadent for Tom, to be honest, but I think he bought it just because he could. Still, works out well for us now, I suppose.  
  
People that live in this block are always flying in and out for business, and come and go at all hours, so it’s all very anonymous. No one takes much notice of what anyone else does. That’s why I’m here tonight, despite the fact that Tom did end up booking the hotel room for me. I’ll probably crash there later when we’re done, depending on how knackered I’m feeling.  
  
Matt and Dom scarpered back to Dom’s place a couple of hours ago, after we’d organised some initial touring dates and endured our first photo shoot for a while. I could feel Tom’s eyes on me in the dressing room, the dirty pervert, so I wasn’t at all fucking surprised when he kissed me in the men’s loo after the shoot was finished.  
  
I grinned as we broke apart, shaking my head at him.  
  
“Fucking settle down, mate,” I laughed. “Keep your energy for later, yeah?”  
  
He laughed too, looking a bit embarrassed, and backed off, running a hand through his hair.  
  
“Er, sorry. Just a bit wound up recently. And haven’t seen you for a while. Got to me today, apparently.”  
  
I smoothed my shirt down that had been ruffled up by Tom’s roving hands.  
  
“Apparently.”  
  
He scratched at the side of his face, looking at the door for a few moments before turning his gaze back to me. He had this strange expression on his face, and I wondered what the hell was going through his head. Still, not really my place to pry, so I didn’t say anything.  
  
I slapped him on the back, and stepped toward the door, ushering him forward.  
  
“Come on, let’s go to the bar before the other two wankers drink all the free booze from this shoot,” I said with a grin.  
  
Tom returned my smile and we headed back out.  
  
After we were satisfactorily liquored up, Matt informed us he wasn’t quite done for the day, and wanted to drink further into the night. It happened that was I was actually in a fair mood for getting pissed today, but from Tom’s behaviour earlier, I didn’t think it was a good idea for all of us to drink together.  
  
Tom’s not the only one itching for a good fuck, and if we drink enough, one of us is liable to slip up and say or do something stupid. The last thing we need right before a new album and tour is Dom and Matt finding out about us. Everything would get very fucked up very quickly if that happened.  
  
So Matt and Dom went to get royally smashed at Dom’s place, no doubt followed up with several bouts of shagging, and me and Tom went our separate ways for a while. I agreed to come over to his place a few hours later, after a shower, change of clothes and something to eat.  
  
So here I am, riding impatiently in this poncy lift up to his flat.  
  
And I feel a bit off, to be honest. Not physically sick from drink or anything; my head’s just in a strange place right now. I don’t know if it’s Tom’s vibes from earlier rubbing off on me, or just doing this with him again. Like I said, it’s been a while since we fucked, and for some reason, I’m feeling nervous about it.  
  
Not that I would have forgotten how to do it or anything like that, that I might fuck it up. No, it’s something else.  
  
Or maybe it’s just me; my head fucking with me. Probably. We’ve all been getting jittery about the new album, and getting back on the road, so it’s probably that more than anything. And not being at home.  
  
The lift finally reaches the right floor and I step out, trying to remember the flat number. 1047? That’s the number I pressed to get buzzed in, I think.  
  
I knock quickly as I reach it, and Tom is already there, his dark eyes greeting me as he opens the door.  
  
I don’t even get my jacket all the way off before Tom decides he needs his mouth on mine, and is pressing me up against the wall, the door closed barely a moment ago.  
  
Fuck, he smells good tonight; recently showered, the scent of shampoo and shower gel lingers, and I’m half-sure he’s wearing aftershave as well. He must be thinking of going out later.  
  
I know Jeff and Vicky still live around this area, so he’s probably catching up with them after this. I would’ve thought it would be easier to get cleaned up and ready after I’ve gone, but Tom’s logic sometimes eludes me.  
  
And his later plans are quickly wiped from my head as sensation overtakes me; his tongue slides against mine, probing and hungry, and his hands are already under my shirt and over the bulge in my jeans. I groan involuntarily, not so much at the pressure on my quickly-developing erection, but just the feel of him against me like this. Sometimes in our past encounters I’ve found myself getting lost in the moment, surrounded by everything Tom, and apparently this is also one of those times.  
  
His mouth tastes so fucking good, hot and wet, despite the fact that our kissing is still on the awkward side. You’d think, after such a long time doing this kind of this, we’d have gotten used to it and better at it, but apparently not. But I don’t care, never have. All I want to do is taste him right now.  
  
And touch. One hand behind his neck, the other pulling open the buttons on his shirt. I went for a t-shirt myself, but I guess Tom doesn’t have any clean ones around right now. Not that it matters; the main purpose of tonight is to get these clothes _off_ , rather than waltz around looking good in them.  
  
But fuck, he does look good in them, I have to admit. It’s a shame he scrubbed up all nice before I came over, because I’m not going to take any care in keeping him that way, so he can go out later. Bollocks to that; I’m feeling so bloody fevered and needy right now, I want to dirty him up and make him sweat like a bitch as much as possible.  
  
His shirt is off, he pulls mine off too, having to break the kiss to pull it over my head, and my lips curse me for the lack of contact. We stumble sideways over our discarded clothes, and I spin him around so I can pin him against the wall now, my mouth going for his throat rather than his tongue this time.  
  
I trail fervent kisses up his neck, along his jaw line, and trace my lips over his skin to capture his earlobe between my teeth. I bite down on it, not too hard, and then run my tongue around the shell of his ear, and over to the sensitive stretch of skin behind it. I lick a path up to his hairline and then fix my mouth back onto his ear, sucking on the lobe once more.  
  
He’s shuddering against me, his breaths ragged in my own ear, and the noises coming out of his mouth seem much more uncontrolled and desperate than usual. I don’t think I’ve known him to be this obviously unravelled before, but now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve really done this sort of thing before.  
  
I’ve kissed him, and blown him on a number of occasions, but I suppose I haven’t taken it much further than that with my oral exploration. Well, neither has he, with me.  
  
Maybe I should stop, since I’m kind of changing the rules without asking him first. But he could stop me if he didn’t like it. And he seems to, so I’m going to keep going.  
  
I abandon his ear for his neck again, and find myself inhaling deeply and exhaling a groan at how good he smells, and how much I’m enjoying the taste of his skin on my tongue. My kisses are open, hungry like his were, and I stop once or twice to seal my lips on him and suck, leaving marks.  
  
Fuck, I shouldn’t do that, I know, but my head is buzzing and body too worked up to think properly. It’s dangerous to leave any trace of our time together, and I’m being selfish because it’s Tom who will get in the shit for it now.  
  
I’m ashamed to admit it feels good to mark him like this, but I’m not sure why.  
  
As if in response, I feel him drag his nails down my back, no doubt leaving parallel red scratches across the skin. Unintentionally, I moan into the crook of his neck and arch my back. I know those marks will be a right bastard to explain to Kelly, because they’ll be obviously human-inflicted, but I can’t seem to give a shit about that right now.  
  
My mouth travels lower, tracking across his collar bone and down the middle of his chest, interspersing kisses with laps of my tongue to taste him some more. My fingers rake through the dark hair on his chest, touching roughly, awkwardly, and I don’t really have any clue why I’m feeling the need to do this now. I haven’t before, and I don’t find body hair appealing, but I can’t stop myself.  
  
“ _Fuck_...”  
  
Tom swears as my mouth reaches his belly, and I’m overcome with a strange sensation as his hands tangle in my hair. Usually he’s quite rough if he decides to grab my hair, but now he’s just stroking, running his fingers through my locks. I don’t understand why everything is so fucking different tonight.  
  
My chest feels odd, tight, and taking deep breaths doesn’t help this time because Tom’s scent clouds my head. I look up to see him staring down at me, with the same dark eyes he greeted me with just before. I don’t know whether it’s just because it’s been so long since we’ve done this, but the desire lingering in those depths is something I don’t really recognise. It seems different somehow.  
  
That said, I know I’m not acting like I normally would either. I especially notice the way my mouth is growing wet with saliva at the thought of pulling off Tom’s trousers and going down on him. Most of the time I do it because I feel I should, or because Tom specifically requests it; not because I want to. Like I said, I don’t like the taste of dick in my mouth.  
  
But fuck me if I don’t want that right now.  
  
But not here, not like this.  
  
I come back up, closing my mouth over Tom’s again, and kiss him hard. I slide a hand down to grab him through his trousers, and a shiver runs down my spine at the sound that comes from his throat at this. I squeeze harder, wanting to hear that sound again, and I’m not disappointed.  
  
I break the kiss to be able to hear it better, and watch his face. When I do it again, the expression on his features sends a wave of heat through my body, and my eyes fix on the shape his lips make as he moans for me.  
  
“ _Fuck_ , you look good when you do that.”  
  
The words spew forth without me even really realising it, and I suddenly feel like a complete twat. We don’t talk when we do this, and here’s me babbling shit that doesn’t even make much sense anyway.  
  
Tom opens his eyes, and I can see how dilated his pupils are this close. He just grins at me.  
  
“So do you.”  
  
He punctuates this by slipping his own hand down and squeezing me through my jeans, and my eyes fall shut and mouth open as I mimic his noises of enjoyment. It feels so good when he touches me, and this time it doesn’t even seem to really matter that it’s only through the fabric of my trousers. Normally I’d be highly impatient for him to undress me and touch me properly, but just having his hands on me at all right now is good enough.  
  
I swallow and open my eyes, my forehead now pressed down against his.  
  
Shit, his eyes are so wide and I feel like I’m drowning. If I was going to be a right fucking girl, I’d even say they looked beautiful. But I’m not, because that would be ridiculous.  
  
There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips.  
  
“Yeah, like that,” he murmurs.  
  
There’s a heat rising in my cheeks; I don’t know if I like him liking that so much. I’m sure I look fucking stupid when I’m getting off; mouth hanging open like a fish and a dumb expression on my face. He’s probably just humouring me, because I said it to him.  
  
I kiss him again and pull him away from the wall, my hands roving his body more fully now. He’s not sexy, not really, but I want him anyway. I want to feel him under my hands; the broadness of his shoulders, his rough body hair, the shape of his hips, his arse, the heat of his skin, and the hardness that I’m the cause of between his legs.  
  
We back further into his flat, and it’s clear that Tom doesn’t spend a whole lot of time here by the way we keep bumping into things, not knowing where they are. I’m too caught up in feeling and kissing him to look around properly, and I don’t really care anyway. A vase goes skittering off a small table and bounces onto the carpet, but Tom ignores it too.  
  
I’d been intending to take him to the bedroom, but we don’t make it that far. My hands have been busy unbuttoning his fly, and I press him down onto the nearby wooden dining table, shifting his arse up so he’s mostly off the ground. His legs are already apart, and one of his feet hooks around my back to pull me against him as we continue to kiss.  
  
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the curtains aren’t all the way across, and I can see outside to adjacent blocks of flats. They’re not that close, but I should really shut the curtains completely, just in case. Or get Tom to.  
  
The table creaks under our weight but neither of us stop. Fuck it, it can take it. I think. Well, if it can’t, I’ll just bloody buy him a new one, I can afford it.  
  
I slip a hand inside Tom’s trousers and wrap my fingers around him. Shit, he feels so hot, so hard, so good. He’s saying my name, swearing at me, and I feel myself twitch at every word that comes out of his mouth. We don’t normally talk; I know, I said that, but I can’t deny what a turn on it is to hear his low, rough voice in my ear, warm and full of desire.  
  
I really should close those curtains.  
  
I turn my head to place my lips at his ear, imitating him, and begin my own mumblings of need. I say incoherent things, stupid things, filthy things; all the things I want to do to him and want him to do to me. I’m so incredibly shit at talking dirty, I never know what the hell to say or what the person would like, but Tom doesn’t really seem to care how bad I am.  
  
Still muttering things occasionally, I move my mouth back to his skin and trail my way down over his chest and stomach again. My hand is still on him, and I use the other to shove his trousers and boxers down a little.  
  
His hand is suddenly tight on my shoulder, and I hear him call my name, but I ignore him. I think he wants me to stop, fuck knows why, but I don’t think I can. I want this too much. And the curtains are still open.  
  
All protests die on his lips as I wrap my mouth around the length of him, sealing it with slight suction and sufficient saliva. It doesn’t seem to taste quite as bad as I remember, and I start moving my tongue around, getting used to him a bit better in my mouth. He’s not that big, so I’m not constantly gagging or anything; not unless I try to anyway.  
  
The noises coming from Tom have trailed off to grunts in the back of his throat and gasping noises as he struggles to breathe. I can feel his hand tugging at my shoulder, but I don’t know if he’s actually trying to stop me or encourage me. His leg is still wrapped around me, tensed and holding me to him, so I take that as an indication to keep going.  
  
I’m going quickly and not very delicately, I know that, but my desire is making me sloppy and indifferent to precise technique. The best I can do is grip the base of his erection to act as a guide for it to slide in and out of my mouth. It seems to be working okay, as far as I can tell.  
  
My forehead presses against his abdomen, which is sticky from where his dick was pressed before, and I frown as I feel it rub off onto my own skin. I hate when that happens; I’m going to look a right idiot after this, with pre-come smeared across my fucking forehead. Oh well, the things we do for a good shag.  
  
My nose nestles in the hair just above the base of his dick as I shove my head all the way down now, trying not to gag as he fills my mouth. I can’t really remember if I’ve taken him this deeply before tonight; my throat doesn’t seem to think so, but I fight the reflex and try to relax.  
  
Christ, you should hear the noise that comes out of him at this. It’s fucking pornographic, is what it is.  
  
Okay, stupid thing to say, given the position we’re in right now, but I’ve never heard him like this before. It’s low, guttural, breathless, and probably the filthiest sound I’ve ever heard in my life. Though it shouldn’t be that surprising, because I can feel the way he’s hitting the back of my throat, and I know what that’s like.  
  
I move my head a bit and feel my eyes water, my mouth filling with saliva as it tries to compensate for the length that’s being shoved into it. It’s uncomfortable, but I persist, and pull back a bit so I can slide forward again and actually resume some kind of rhythm.  
  
After a couple of strokes, Tom’s fingers become painful as they dig into my shoulder; his whole body is tense and shuddering like he might fall apart at any moment. He chokes again, and I wince as his other hand yanks at my hair.  
  
“ _Fuck_...sto...”  
  
He can’t get the words out, but I know what he’s trying to say.  
  
“Stop...I c-can’t...”  
  
I ignore him, I keep going.  
“I’m...”  
  
My stomach lurches as my gag reflex tries to overtake again. I suppress the sensation and continue to bob my head. I curl my arm around underneath one of his thighs, making him hitch his leg up higher.  
  
“ _Chris_...going to...”  
  
I know what he’s ‘going to’. Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop. My other hand releases his cock and shoves down lower into his trousers. I feel his body start to tremble and position my fingers in preparation.  
  
Just as I hear his breath hitch and feel that first pulse of blood under his skin, I shove a finger in his entrance and press down with my mouth as far as I can.  
  
Tom lets out a sharp cry, and I can only imagine the look on his face as I penetrate him like this.  
  
“Shit!”  
  
It probably is a bit painful, as my finger was only slightly wet from the blowjob, but I’m itching to be rough and filthy, so I couldn’t help myself. Besides, a little pain can be good sometimes.  
  
Tom rides out his orgasm, his body convulsing and trembling, and his breathing is so laboured he sounds like he’s fucking hyperventilating. There’s that thick, warm taste in the back of my throat and I find myself pulling my mouth off a little, though I’m not sure why because that just makes it all the more noticeable.  
  
After a few more moments, I slide my finger out, and Tom chokes, his body jumping at the sensation. It does the same when I draw my mouth off him straight after. Oops. I think I fucking broke him.

Tom looks dazed as I glance back up at him, his head now fallen back against the wood and his limbs hanging limply against the table and me. His eyes are rolled back in his head, lids half-closed, and his mouth hangs open as he tries to catch his breath. His cheeks and neck are flushed, and the rest of his skin is clammy with perspiration and that ‘just shagged’ appearance. I feel a thrill rush through me and then knot tightly in my belly, as I think that all that is my doing.  
  
I reach a hand up to wipe at my damp forehead, and quickly realise my mouth is in much more of a state. My lips and chin are sodden with saliva; I didn’t know I’d practically fucking drooled all over my own face and down my neck when I was giving head to Tom. God damnit, this shit can be messy sometimes.  
  
I start wiping at the rest of my face, but it doesn’t really do much to help except make my hand wet as well. My other hand is resting up the top of Tom’s inner thigh, my thumb apparently having a mind of its own as it strokes along the damp, heated skin there.  
  
It’s funny how there’s patches of his skin where his dark hair becomes sparse and disappears altogether, like there on his inner thighs or along his spine and most of his arse. It seems to magically reappear again when it nears his groin, and I find my other hand reaching back to touch him and trace its path.  
  
He flinches and lets out a shuddering breath as my knuckles graze his balls, and my eyes track back up to his face to watch his expressions. His eyes are still mostly closed but his brow is furrowed a little now.  
  
I glance back down, then up again, and bite my lip. I feel my wet fingers twitch with the desire to push things further and see just how much he can take. He’s still not looking at me, so he has no idea what I’m about to do; if he did he’d probably stop me.  
  
Holding his thigh steady, I press a finger part of the way back inside him again.  
  
His eyes fly open and he makes that funny choking sound again, his whole body tensing. I look up to meet his gaze, which bores into me, eyes wide and questioning.  
  
I don’t say anything. I can’t really explain what I’m doing, to him or myself.  
  
I push my finger further in, and it seems easier than when he was coming, probably because of the saliva that’s on my hand now. I swallow and continue to watch him, feeling his body trembling under my other hand. His breathing has settled from earlier, but it now hitches with what I’m doing.  
  
His eyes shout at me with astonishment and what I think is desire, but he doesn’t say anything either way to let me know if it’s good or not. I don’t want to stop, but I will if he asks me to.  
  
Once my finger is practically all the way in, I start to slide it out again, and I watch him try to bite back a whimper at the sensation. He’s not successful, but oddly enough, I admit I like being the cause of that noise. It’s not often I see a vulnerable side of Tom, even when I’m fucking him, so this is an accomplishment in itself.  
  
I glance down to see my finger disappear inside him again, my stomach twisting strangely at the sight, and I feel the need to look away. I meet Tom’s eyes again, and find them still dark, dilated and glossy.  
  
“ _Chris_...”  
  
His voice is soft and strained, and I don’t know if he’s actually trying to ask me something or not. He reaches a trembling hand up to rub over his face, and I hear him murmur and shake his head slightly. To be honest, he looks a little delirious, and I wonder again whether I should stop.  
  
But wondering and doing are two separate things, and for some reason I can’t bring myself to give him a reprieve just yet.  
  
I shift my body up and push his thighs apart a bit further so I can lean over him, and start to run my mouth over his skin again. I track up his navel, over his belly and chest, tasting with my tongue and nipping with my teeth. My nostrils fill with the scent of sweat and sex, and I close my eyes, feeling my veins rush with blood. Fuck, I want him so _badly_ , it’s ridiculous.  
  
I think there’s something wrong with me tonight. I feel so fucking antsy and on-edge; more bloody desperate than I normally do, and I’m not even sure what for.  
  
I press my face against his chest as I lick a path up his sternum, not caring that he’s hairy under my tongue. Shit, I’ve been fucking him for long enough now, I’ve gotten used to the body hair, and it’s not like I can bloody talk anyway. I’m sure he sometimes gets a bit weirded out by that constant reminder that he’s not shagging a woman, but clearly it’s not enough of a deterrent to stop him getting off. The will of your own dick can be a powerful thing.  
  
I haven’t stopped pressing my finger in and out of him as I make my way up his body, though the rhythm is still slow, almost teasingly so. But it just feels better like this because I can tell what I’m doing, and go all the way in.  
  
I’ve never exactly been adept at touching Tom; most of the time I just wank him off or fuck him, which are easy enough to do, but haven’t really gotten around to knowing his body very well. And I certainly haven’t done this before, other than a quick poke around to prepare him for my cock. Tonight I want to though, not entirely sure why, but I guess it’s just out of simple curiosity.  
  
When I reach his face, he’s still staring at me, though I notice his breathing has become increasingly erratic again. I lick my lips and stare back, not really sure if I should say anything. What in the hell do you say at a time like this? I don’t have a decent explanation, and the way he’s looking at me makes my throat close up anyway. My stomach kicks with what feels like very angry butterflies.  
  
With my eyes still tracking over his face, I lean down and press him into a wet kiss, snaking my tongue out. It’s slow but somehow feverish, and my head spins as I close my eyes and groan into it. His response is more sluggish than usual, probably because I blew him only moments ago, but I think he still welcomes my mouth on his.  
  
I curl my tongue around his and then probe further into his mouth, with a need to make this kiss as deep as possible. He’s tastes fantastically hot after coming, and it’s even more of a turn on doing this with my finger inside him at the same time. I think I’m salivating far too much, but Tom isn’t complaining yet.  
  
This time when my finger pushes forward, I leave it there, and start to poke around a little. I feel him squirm at this, and wonder if I’m going about this all wrong. I’m far from an expert on men, and just because I like something, doesn’t mean he will. That’s not to say that I usually enjoy being finger-fucked, but when I’ve had fingers in there, it hasn’t felt half-bad.  
  
But clearly I must be doing something right, because as I press down on a particular spot, I feel Tom tense and he breaks the kiss to exhale a soft groan. I open my eyes and find him watching me, heavy-lidded and lips parted slightly.  
  
I press my forehead against his and attempt to hit the same spot again. The noise is a little louder this time, and a shiver runs through me.  
  
“Okay?” I ask.  
  
It sounds stupid, I know, but I can’t really string together coherent sentences, and I need to know if he wants me to stop. Tom’s breath is hot on my face, and the look in his eyes is strangely quizzical, as though he’s searching for something in mine.  
  
After a moment, he nods, but doesn’t say anything. I take that as a good sign.  
  
I resume the slide in and out of him, still slow, but this time try to hit the place that seemed to feel good for him on each forward motion. After a few strokes, it seems I’m getting the hang of it because there’s a near-constant murmuring groan from his throat now, and his skin seems more heated than just from the post-coital glow.  
  
I like the way his breathing is becoming increasingly laboured as I continue to finger-fuck him, and how a sweat has started to gather around his temples and along his throat again. His mouth hangs constantly open now, and I cover it with my own every now and then to taste the heat and wetness there, unable to stop myself. The noises that escape it are becoming more and more of what I’d normally class as pathetic, but shit, I’m enjoying the hell out of them right now.  
  
It feels so fucking good to hear Tom whine and whimper like that; it’s a little bit odd, because I’m not normally a sadist. Sure, I enjoy the dominance and submission side of sex like any bloke, but it’s never really been intentional before, with anyone, and I’ve never felt the hunger to make someone unravel like I do right now.  
  
That said, I’m not trying to hurt Tom, not really. I’m curious, like I said before. I want to do this to see what happens.  
  
Meanwhile, my dick is having a bit of a protest, because of my lack of getting off. I admit, I’m generally pretty impatient with sex, especially with Tom. But the tease is still pretty damn good at the moment; I don’t think I mind dragging it out a bit longer. Particularly if Tom keeps making those fucking noises he is, and twisting his face into those bloody pornographic expressions.  
  
The way his brow furrows and releases sporadically, his eyes half-open like he’s high, and eyelids fluttering on cue every single time I plunge my finger back inside him. His lips shape into an ‘O’ every now and then, and there’s a renewed flush of arousal creeping its way up his throat and into his cheeks. All this is making me fucking crazy, my ears rushing with blood, and I notice a tremble in my body and own motions.  
  
I look away from his face for a minute to glance down, and see he’s already half-hard again just from me doing this to him. I can’t smother the groan in my throat, and I lick at his neck again, breathing hard and involuntarily using my teeth on his skin. He squirms under me, and I look up to find him staring at me again.  
  
I hold his gaze and add another finger.  
  
He groans, surprisingly softly, his eyelids flutter but he keep his eyes locked to mine.  
  
It’s tight, probably uncomfortable, and I look for signs of irritation or anger. I’m blundering my way through these boundaries, but Tom isn’t stopping me. He probably should because I don’t even fucking know where I’m going with this. All I know is that my dick is hard and body hungry as I do this to him, and it feels much more intense than anything else I’ve done with him before.  
  
He lets out a choppy exhalation as I keep my fingers where they are; pressed inside him, still and as deep as I can get them at this angle. My kiss is sloppy, tongue awkward and ravenous, and I break after a moment to breathe hard against his face. I press my forehead on his and find his eyes swallowing me up again. I try to speak, tell him what I want.  
  
“Tom...”  
  
_I want more, I need more, I need_ ** _you_**.  
  
The words don’t come; just bounce around in my head and stay there. I can’t articulate like this, not right now. My throat constricts when I meet Tom’s eyes and my stomach tightens like I’m going to be sick. I’m nervous, still fucking nervous, and I haven’t a clue as to why that is.  
  
I swallow, close my eyes, and slowly slide my fingers out of him again. There’s a sharp exhalation at this and my dick twitches at the sound. I shake my head slightly and open my eyes again. Tom watches me expectantly.  
  
I kiss him fiercely, one hand at his hip and the other wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him up off the table. When we break apart, I meet his eyes again and lick my lips, breathing hard.  
  
“Bedroom?”  
  
He nods and gestures toward a door to our left.  
  
Glancing one last time at the open curtains, I release him from his pinned position and we head toward the bedroom. I follow him inside and he stops in front of me, just before the bed.  
  
I fix my hands upon his shoulders and fasten my lips to the side of his neck, lapping with my tongue and biting down. He shudders at this and turns his head, reaching a hand up to take my jaw between his thumb and forefingers. He yanks my mouth away from his skin and slams his own lips on mine, making my grip tighten on his shoulders. His kisses are hard, unyielding, and fucking good.  
  
Tom turns his body now and slides his hand around the back of my neck, his fingers splaying and gripping me firmly. He pulls my mouth down harder onto his, if that’s even possible, and now it seems I’m the one that’s a bit pathetic, as I feel my legs start to give. I grab onto his waist with one hand, in an attempt to keep myself stable. It doesn’t really help.  
  
I have to break from his mouth because my head is starting to spin, and I feel that odd constriction in my chest again. My hands grasp at his skin, sliding down quickly over his chest, though my thumb makes a detour to rub firmly over one of his nipples.  
  
Tom chokes and gives me a pointed look.  
  
I do it again, just to see what happens.  
  
He’s more vocal this time, and his hand is quick to wrap tightly around my wrist, stopping me. There’s a grin trying to break out on his lips, though his eyes are still dark.  
  
“Fucking stop it,” he growls.  
  
I can’t help but smile devilishly, and use my other hand on the other nipple this time. He squirms and curses me, stilling my other hand.  
  
“Don’t like it?” I ask, breathless.  
  
Though it’s obvious he does. That flush in his cheek and the writhe of his hips when I did it are a dead giveaway.  
  
He quirks an eyebrow at me, knowing I’m just being fucking cheeky.  
  
“Don’t want you to do that,” he replies.  
  
I’m feeling a right rude bastard tonight, and don’t want to leave it alone.  
  
“That’s not the same thing,” I inform him with a grin.  
  
He gives me that same strange expression from earlier and lets go of my wrists, turning away. He shuffles over to the bedside table and begins rifling through the drawer.  
  
I wonder if I’ve stepped over the mark, and shift uncomfortably.  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
Tom turns his head to look at me, and his gaze seems unfocused. He gives me a faint smile and shakes his head.  
  
“Nah, it’s alright, just pissing about.”  
  
I’m not sure if he means me or him.  
  
I shrug and step toward the bed, unbuttoning my jeans and discarding them. My fingers linger in the waistband of my boxers for a moment, and then I pull them down as well, leaving me completely starkers. A sudden wave of self-consciousness washes over me, but fortunately it’s gone as quickly as it came.  
  
I climb onto the bed and make myself comfortable. When I look up, Tom has turned back around again and is watching me with an odd intensity. The look in his eyes is hungry but somehow faraway, like he’s thinking something bloody deep, and his lips are parted just the slightest bit. I fidget, though I don’t mean to.  
  
Fuck, that self-consciousness is back again.  
  
“What?” I ask, hoping that my voice will make him stop fucking looking at me like that. “Decided you’re not in the mood for this hairy bastard after all?”  
  
My self-deprecation makes him smile, and that seems to snap him out of it. He dumps a tube of lube and condom on the bed, and begins to slide his trousers off too.  
  
I shuffle across the bed and slip a leg either side of him, stilling his hands with my own. He gives me a confused look but I just stare down, pulling his trousers down myself. I can’t explain why, but I want to do this.  
  
My hands skim over the dark hair of his legs, my thumbs pressing in at his thighs and hips as they come back up to his boxers. He steps out of his trousers, steadying himself with a hand on my shoulder, and I can feel his eyes on me still. I don’t want to look up, in case the expression on his face tells me he think I’m being a fucking weirdo. I know I am; behaving oddly and giving no explanation, but there isn’t really anything I can say that will make sense.  
  
I lean forward and press my lips against his navel, licking a trail from the waistband of his boxers up to his bellybutton. I inhale deeply, my chest hitching with breath. He smells like sex and sweat, and faintly of cologne still, and my head feels fuzzy from it. I feel my dick jump and throb impatiently, but I like the way I can tease myself like this, just with the way he smells and tastes.  
  
My hands pull down his boxers, and he’s barely stepped out of them when I grab hold of his hips and pull them toward my head.  
  
“Whoa, wait, I – ”  
  
His objection is once again cut short by my mouth on his cock, though this time he’s nowhere near as hard as he was the first time. It takes time to recover from these things, I know, but making him come quickly again isn’t really the point. To be honest, I don’t really know what the fucking point is, other than my mouth seems to have a mind of it’s own, and wants Tom’s dick in there.  
  
I’m much slower this time, drawing my mouth up and down the length of him and curling a hand around the base to guide my movements. My tongue snakes it’s way over the head, probing along the grooves and exploring the shape of him, not really for any real purpose other than I want to. But why the hell do I even want to?  
  
He still tastes slightly of come from before, but I can’t seem to care, and simply revel in the way my dick pulses and twitches in my lap at the sounds I’m drawing from him. I barely noticed his hands in my hair, but I find it’s like before, where he’s only running them through, not yanking or guiding me. I suppose I could stop him, as it still seems a bit strange. But I’m kind of getting used to it, and I’ll admit it feels quite nice.  
  
“Oh _fuck_...Chris, you – why are y...”  
  
His words trail off into another groan as I lick at him again, and his hands slide lower to cradle my head, his thumb stroking along my jaw. I ignore the twist in my belly and concentrate on inhaling through my nose as I take him back completely into my mouth.  
  
“Shit...good, so fucking...”  
  
I hear him suppress a moan, and suddenly wonder why the fuck he’s bothering to try to keep quiet. It’s not I care if he makes noise; I haven’t before. Then again, he’s never really made that much noise in the past, so maybe he feels stupid about being noticeably vocal tonight. He shouldn’t; he should know there’s very little he could do to shock or deter me, given how long I’ve known him.  
  
I pull my mouth off him most of the way and tilt my head to look up at him. Okay, probably a bad idea, I know that. I meet his eyes; they’re full of fire and that same distant look as before. It makes my heart jump into my throat and I struggle to breathe.  
  
“Your mouth...God...it’s...”  
  
Tom closes his eyes for a moment, and I see him swallow. I wait until he meets my gaze again, and then brush my tongue over the head of his cock. I can feel the look on his face being burned into my retinas; such a filthy mix of desperation and pleasure, it makes my blood burn in my veins.  
  
But instead of letting me continue, like I expected he would, Tom suddenly pulls away, pressing my shoulders back to remove my mouth from him. I want to ask him if I did something wrong, but he won’t meet my eyes. He runs a hand through his hair, turning away from me a little, but I can see the tremble in it from here.  
  
Maybe I’ve overdone the teasing. It’s probably not his sort of thing, and pisses him off more than turns him on. But like I said, I don’t really know Tom’s body that well, or what he specifically likes, other than fucking and being fucked.  
  
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m being a bit of a pain in the arse tonight, I know.”  
  
I have a sudden urge to tell him how weird I’m feeling; fucked up and jittery and I don’t know why. But I can’t do that. I won’t dump my personal shit on him; that’s not what tonight is for. We’re just here to fuck, so I’ll leave all the other bullshit until tomorrow.  
  
He runs a hand over his face and then watches me for a moment. Well, I’m not the only one acting weird, because he keeps fucking staring at me like that.  
  
“No, it’s not...”  
  
He doesn’t finish what he’s saying, and I don’t really know where he’s going with it.  
  
I shift back onto the bed and Tom takes the cue, joining me. His hands run up my inner thighs, and he’s got my dick in his hand before I can stop him. Shit, damnit, his fingers feel good wrapped around me right now. But it’s too much, I know it is.  
  
A loud groan escapes me before I can stop it, and I feel like a bit of a git for being so bloody turned on by the first touch. I know if he upped the pace of his strokes, I’d be coming within a matter of minutes, I’m that wound up.  
  
Tom crawls up beside me and kisses me again, and at least that distracts me a bit from the slow, pressured feel of his hand around my cock. But as good as it is that I’m not coming straight away, in terms of being a total fucking embarrassment, his touch is making me too crazy. I’m fevered and still on edge, and I think my body has had about enough of all the waiting tonight.  
  
I still his hand and turn to grab the lube from beside me on the bed, pressing it into Tom’s free hand.  
  
He gives me a wry smile, accepting it and twisting off the cap.  
  
“In the mood for punishing my arse tonight, aren’t you?” he says, amusement evident in his voice. “Just take it a bit fuckin’ easy, okay? I need to be able to walk tomorrow.”  
  
Closing my eyes, my breath sticks in my throat, as I realise he doesn’t understand what I want. I shake my head and then open my eyes again, wishing I could just tell him by telepathy.  
  
I can’t speak the words, I feel too stupid. But I need him to know.  
  
I reach out and take hold of the hand that he’s just squeezed some lube onto. Keeping my eyes locked on his, I spread my legs apart and then guide his hand between them, below my balls.  
  
I watch his eyebrows rise as it dawns on him what I want.  
  
“Oh, I thought you’d want to fuck me, seeing as I already...”  
  
I shake my head again. I’m aware that I haven’t requested to be fucked by him before, only ever consented when he wanted it.  
  
“No, I... I mean, if that’s okay, I just...”  
  
Tom slides a finger inside me, and I can’t remember the rest of my sentence.  
  
My eyelids flutter shut and I groan, enjoying this foreign sensation far more than I know I should. Violation of any kind in that area usually bothers me a lot, but not right now. Shit, far from bothering me, it feels fucking incredible, and my legs open wider unconsciously. I’m acting like a right fucking whore, but I don’t care.  
  
Tom’s finger probes hesitantly, and I can tell he doesn’t really know what the fuck to do, but it honestly doesn’t matter. As long as it’s inside or going in and out, it’s good, so unbelievably good. I moan again as his finger goes deeper, and my cock jumps on my belly in response. It’s so fucking hard, ridiculously wet at the head with pre-come, and it feels fantastic. I think I might be turning into a masochist, the amount I’ve been enjoying winding myself up tonight without gaining any relief.  
  
When he adds another finger, I cry out again, this time much more unashamedly. I open my eyes to find Tom watching me with slight astonishment, as though me enjoying something like this is completely unexpected.  
  
Well, I suppose it is. I’ve never really indicated before that I like the intrusion. Because I didn’t, really. But tonight, all the rules are going out the fucking window.  
  
My body writhes under his touch, hips bucking forward and pressing up off the bed slightly every time he slides his fingers in again. I reach a hand down to trace my fingertips up the shaft of my dick, exhaling a heavy breath at the sensation of it combined with Tom’s fingers inside me.  
  
He shifts beside me, and I see his pupils dilate at the sight of me touching myself. It’s a reminder of how all this started between us, and I pull him into a fierce kiss, hungry for his mouth. Every time we break apart, he mutters strings of swear words and _oh God_ ’s, along with my name every now and then. He seems to be getting off this almost as much as me, and the thought just makes my cock ache even more.  
  
I’m becoming delirious with need, my hands grabbing at his hips and clutching at the muscles of his arms, to pull him over onto to me, push his fingers inside even harder. Tom twists their position slightly, pressing deeper, and an intense pleasure washes over me as he hits my prostate.  
  
_Fuck, yes, God, right there Tom, fucking hell_.  
  
My mind is screaming, but I’m incoherent; only managing grunts and whimpers as he plunges his fingers in and out, realising he’s hit the spot. And shit, he pulls no punches, just keeps on driving at it; making me babble and making my body shudder like crazy.  
  
Christ, it’s good, so good, I don’t want it to stop, but I think I might hyperventilate or have a fit of some kind if I don’t come soon. I need more, much more, harder, closer, deeper.  
  
I reach blindly for the lube that was discarded earlier and manage to grab it between my shaking fingers, still kissing Tom hard in the process. I pull it closer and then shift my hips so I can hitch a leg up, opening up even more to Tom. I normally feel quite vulnerable like this, but right now I just feel desperate, and want more than just his fingers inside me.  
  
I grab hold of his wrist and remove his fingers from me, a strange sense of emptiness washing over me as I do. I place his hand at my thigh and he grips me as he wiggles his hips to lie atop me completely. I can feel his dick rubbing gently over my arse, and he exhales shakily, closing his eyes.  
  
“ _Fuck_...”  
  
He sounds as overwhelmed as I feel.  
  
The musky scent of sweat hangs in the air, but I don’t know whether it’s from him or me. Either way, I find it some kind of bizarre turn-on, I guess as a contrast to my usual kind of sex with Kelly. Not to say that I don’t smell if I get particularly hot and heavy with her, but it’s always balanced with her gentle fragrance. It’s always seemed to me that women have a different softness of touch and smell to men, even in the throes of down and dirty sex, so the difference is vivid here and now.  
  
I shift my hips, almost unconsciously, just to feel Tom rub against me again, and he chokes out a sigh. God, he feels good against me like this; his skin hard and warm on my arse, pressing insistently like he’s wanted this all night. I don’t know, maybe he has, and I ruined his plans by giving him head earlier. It’s not like he was complaining, anyway.  
  
And I feel like a complete and utter slapper for admitting it, but for once, this is exactly what I want; I need him to fuck me. I need to feel his modest but bloody hard dick inside me, and for him to fuck me relentlessly until I feel like I’m going to be ripped apart from the inside out. Don’t ask me why I want it now, tonight, because I have no clue. I just want us both to feel fucking fantastic and I know that will do it.  
  
I reach a hand down between my own thighs to take hold of Tom and press his cock against me, squeezing him in slow strokes. Blood rushes behind my ears at the look on his face as I do this, and I feel his hips curl forward to thrust harder onto my opening. He seals my mouth with a sloppy kiss and I thrust my tongue out, not really caring how inelegant my response is.  
  
Shit, it shouldn’t feel this good to have someone play around my arse like this, but I can feel every damn ridge and contour of the head of his dick and it’s driving me fucking crazy. I want it now, _right now_ , all of him inside me, up to the hilt. So hard, so hot, so deep, until all I can fucking think and feel is Tom, over and over and over.  
  
I grab at the lube and squeeze some onto my fingers. I can’t think straight, I just wet my hand and reach down. I go first for myself, and make sure I’m ready to go, opening my body up a little. Then I reach out for Tom with my wet fingers, unthinking, just closing around his warm flesh so I can stroke with quick, slippery motions.  
  
He moans into my mouth, breathing heavily, as I pump him in my fist. I realise I’ve fucked things up by doing this. He’ll need to wipe down again before putting the condom on, but I don’t care. I can’t stop.  
  
I love the noises he makes like this. I love the wet, squelching sound the lube makes between my hand and his dick, and how fluid it makes this movement. It’s heated, and fast, and of course still clumsy, but sets my skin on fire. It makes me press him harder against me, makes my hips buck upwards to meet his hard length, makes my own cock ache for attention still.  
  
The head slips that much further between my cheeks, and fuck, it feels good. I groan, kiss him again, briefly and fervently now. It’s just tongue and quick sucks with my lips but he meets me with the same. He slides, slips infuriatingly against my opening, and I deliberately push his erection down harder.  
  
Tom stifles a gasp as the head of his dick presses just the tiniest bit into me, and I can’t help but grunt and shudder either. So close, so close to being inside me, it’s making me nuts. I want him, I don’t want to stop.  
  
I push again. He bucks his hips forward this time. Lubed up, he slides inside a little again. We should stop, we need to stop. All I can do is choke out his name and pull harder on his hips. I’ll probably leave marks there. Fuck it.  
  
I shouldn’t, but I part my legs wider. He breathes against my neck, muttering something I can’t understand. Just swear words and my name I think. I kiss along his jaw and start blabbering how much I want him. I feel him push with his dick again. This is dangerous. But I need him.  
  
I want more. My hips circle, goading him. His fingers bite into my thigh and shoulder. He moans, and I feel him shudder. He presses down with his hips, and I feel the breach again. I beg him for more. All of it. All of him. All the way in. Can’t think. Can’t stop. Just need.  
  
_Fuck_.  
  
Tom shoves his way in. My body jolts. He feels good. So good. Hard, hot, deep. All of him. Bare flesh on mine, _in_ mine, filling me up.  
  
This is bad, very bad. I need the condom. We need to stop. I don’t want to. Not right now.  
  
He slides part of the way out and pounds back in again. I cry out; a bark of pure pleasure that sounds pained. I hear his groans in my ear. He resumes the bucks of his hips, trying to settle into a rhythm. It’s sloppy, rapid, inconsistent. It’s fucking perfect.  
  
I continue to mumble almost incoherent fragmented sentences. Whisper, murmur, growl in his ear. About how he’s doing it right, exactly right, exactly how I want it.  
  
“Fuck, fuck yes, _fuck_ , right there, Tom, oh fuck.”  
  
All my words along those lines; not really making much sense but getting my point across. Tom continues, incited by my utterances. He drives harder, faster, hitting my prostate with every push. I squeeze him now with each thrust. He gasps, curses my name, and I love it.  
  
I’m wound tight like a spring, body shuddering with tension. I feel like I’m losing my mind, coming undone at the seams. God, I don’t think I’ve felt this good in my life.  
  
I fix a hand behind his head and bring his mouth back to mine. We kiss, briefly, heated, his breaths panting and laboured into my mouth.  
  
Tom opens his eyes and looks at me. I’m stuck.  
  
My heart lodges itself in my throat. His eyes are dark, so deep, so fucking amazing, it makes me even more breathless. There’s something there in them again, from before. I still don’t recognise it, but it makes my chest tight. I want to ask him what it is, why the hell he’s looking at me like that. I’m too fucking scared to.  
  
His hand fastens around my dick and my eyes roll back. I groan against his lips and then feel him shift inside me in response. He strokes me in time with the bucking of his hips, and I feel everything beginning to spiral out of control.  
  
“I want it, want it, want you. So good, so fucking good. Uh, God, there, fucking hell. Fuck me, like that, take me, shit. I’m yours, Tom, I’m yours, all yours...”  
  
I trail off into gibberish, not really aware of what I’m saying. I’m talking utter bullshit but the words won’t stop spilling from my lips. Tom kisses me between all the ramblings, clearly not at all put off but my ridiculous words.  
  
His other hand snakes up into my hair, and he’s holding my head. I open my eyes again and I’m mesmerised. He starts replying to my nonsensical chatter with his own; telling me how much he wants me, needs me, how good I feel, how good this is, how he doesn’t want to stop.  
  
He buries himself deeper inside me, driving as hard as he can. I choke, and grab his head in my hands, crushing his lips with mine. I keep rambling.  
  
“Want this, want this so much. Need this, need this. Need you. Want you. Lov – ”  
  
No. _No_. Fuck no.  
  
Tom’s eyes are still fixed to mine and I hope he missed that. Just rubbish babbling, that’s all. Don’t know what I’m saying. Sex fucking with my head.  
  
But his eyes widen slightly. Something stirs in their depths, and I’m afraid he heard it.  
  
It doesn’t matter. I’m becoming overwhelmed. He feels too good. His hand tugs on me relentlessly now, and his cock punishes me over and over. I feel my belly tighten, and a moan strangles itself in my throat.  
  
I call his name and see stars. I’m coming.  
  
There’s nothing but white hot pleasure, and Tom inside me. My body convulses, wracked with orgasm, and I watch myself burst over Tom’s hand and onto my belly. It looks completely filthy, degrading; me coming so hard from being fucked in the arse like some cheap whore, but I revel in it. I want him to have me like this, unlike all those times before when I just put up with it. This is different.  
  
I’m still riding the aftershocks when I feel Tom begin to shudder above me. I look up and cup his jaw with my hand, locking eyes with him. He still looks delirious, almost high, his pupils wide and black. His mouth hangs open and he whimpers.  
  
“ _Shit_...”  
  
He slows his movements, and I’m confused. I can feel him throbbing inside me; sitting on that knife edge, ready to blow again. So why has he slowed down?  
  
Tom brings his lips against mine and kisses me. Slowly, carefully, deeply. I whimper accidentally. He breaks the kiss to begin talking to me again. His voice is shaky, low, thick with desire and emotion.  
  
He tells me how he loves to have me like this, love to feel me like this, though he knows he shouldn’t, knows it’s wrong. I wonder if he’s decided we shouldn’t do this anymore, and this is one last pity fuck to placate me.  
  
Then he pushes his hips hard into me again; once, twice, three times. On the third time, I feel his body shake and he starts to come. I can feel him spill hot and wet inside me. God, he's beautiful like this. He’s still murmuring, talking in gasps as he does.  
  
“Oh... Chris... fuck... I love this... this... so good... love it... love it... love you, love you... oh...”  
  
  
  
  
Shit.  
  
_Shit_.  
  
Oh God. Oh _God_.  
  
Now we’re in trouble.

~*~


End file.
